Seventy-Thirty
by KnightNight7203
Summary: "The change is so gradual and so unplanned that he doesn't even realize it's been happening until he reaches into his pocket one night, ready to go find something cheap for dinner, and realizes there's nothing there." In which Jack is a selfless idiot who grows to care for his new friends more than he initially anticipated.


**Good news and bad news.**

 **The bad news is, it's been a long time, and for that I'm really sorry. A combination of school, work, and my newfound Phantom obsession has made it really hard to find time to sit down and write a Newsies story. The good news, however, is that I have one week left of actual high school in my life, and then I'll be able to write all the time (until college starts, at least)!**

 **This was supposed to be a quick little story, but in my dedication to procrastinating studying for the bio AP test and some math finals, it turned out a lot longer than I initially intended! Hopefully this tides you over until after next week :)**

 **Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

With the trend of lousy headlines lately, there's no denying that the papers haven't been selling like they used to. It's nothing they can't get through right now, with the warm weather and the fact that nobody's sick, but the thought of what they'll do when winter comes around again has been nagging at the back of all their minds. So when Jack sees the little kid milling about Newsie Square, he decides to take it as a sign. If they can't bring in the business the old-fashioned way — by relying on the reporters — they'll have to employ new methods of their own.

The older boy standing with the kid — probably his brother, Jack figures — looks a little hostile, so Jack buys him the extra papers to soften him up. That plan fails spectacularly, but when Crutchie starts bragging about him, at least the younger boy looks interested.

Jack asks him how old he is, and he proudly proclaims his long decade of existence. He's adorable, for sure, but it won't break anybody's heart to see a boy of ten on the streets — at this point, they've all seen plenty worse. No, he's got to act younger, if they're going to be partners …

"Partners? Who said we wanna be partners?"

Jack stops short and stares at the older boy, Davey. Though he had pinned him as no fun from the start, he hadn't really expected him to be so opposed to accepting help. But between the convincing from Crutchie and himself, he manages to override his protests.

Les passes the first test — looking appropriately pathetic, and even adding a little sniffle for effect. Then Jack names his terms: seventy-thirty. And the kid explodes into objections.

"Fifty-fifty. You wouldn't try to pull a fast one on a kid, would ya?"

Jack shakes his head in disbelief at his nerve. Sure, he wanted a cute partner that would stir the sympathies of the society ladies, but the point is to make more money, not less. He'd love to help out these new guys, but the fact is, there's only two of them. He's got far more boys to look after, to keep clothed and fed and off the streets.

"Sixty-forty," he says finally. He's frowning, but there's a touch of amusement in his voice. With a little help, this kid could become just like one of his boys. "And that's my final offer."

He can't stop the smile from spreading over his face at the enthusiastic response of the kid. And with a silent promise to make Davey seal the deal with a handshake of his own before he walks with his profits, just because he acted so disgusted, he sets off down the busy street with his new partners.

* * *

When he first learns they have a family, it almost makes him feel better about the price they agreed on.

There's five of them, after all, and most of them are grown. They're more than capable of providing for themselves, unlike the boys he's looking after. Boys who don't have anyone, who are pennies away from living on the streets, who force themselves to work for hours every day even if they can barely walk.

Then he finds out their father lost his job. That the mother and sister may have to find work at a factory if things get any worse, and that the boys are supposed to be in school so that they can find a real profession someday and escape from this damned brink of poverty for good. Davey reveals a little more information about his precious home every day. And with each confession, Jack feels his stomach twisting a little more with the dawning realization that they're barely hanging in there.

They're not worse off than him — yet. But they're also far less used to dealing with any of this, and he knows the shock of falling into it suddenly can be devastating.

"You should join us for dinner," Davey says one night, not for the first time, as the street lights flicker on. "Our mother's been asking about you; Papa too — they want to meet the famous Jack Kelly."

"It'd be real fun with you there, Jack," Les adds, looking up at him with those big, pleading eyes. "I need somebody to take my side for once — Davey's always picking on me."

"Aw, how do ya know I wouldn't just pick on you too?" he asks as Davey splutters in protest. But he finds himself trailing along behind them as they head toward an old apartment building, clasping his hands together to stop them from shaking and trying to convince himself that he doesn't need to be nervous. It's just dinner with his friends. There's no reason for their folks to arrive at the conclusion that he doesn't even remember having a family of his own, or to judge him if they did.

But he doesn't worry for long, because as soon as Davey opens the door he's swept up in Mrs. Jacobs' hug and Mr. Jacobs' firm handshake, Sarah's shy smile and the task of carrying steaming plates of food to the table. They ask about the strike. They compliment him on his business methods. They talk and laugh and act like he's one of their own.

He picks up on little details throughout the night, though. The way Mrs. Jacobs' hands are raw and bloody from the laundry she does to make a few extra dollars. The way Mr. Jacobs' cheeks are hollow, and he eats the least food despite being the largest person there — he wonders if that's due to lingering guilt over not being able to provide for his family. Sarah's dress is threadbare (not that he's looking), and there are times when the electricity flickers and he wonders if it's going to go out altogether.

So when he divides up the money just before he leaves (after assuring Mrs. Jacobs that he does have a place to stay, thanks very much, and couldn't possibly impose on them any longer) he keeps the smaller share for himself. He still has enough to buy a few rolls for Crutchie and Romeo. And with all the food he just ate, there's no way he'll be hungry tomorrow, anyway.

* * *

The change is so gradual and so unplanned that he doesn't even realize it's been happening until he reaches into his pocket one night, ready to go find something cheap for dinner, and realizes there's nothing there. No money, not even a penny. He checks his other pockets to be sure, even the one with the hole, but finds nothing but a stub of of charcoal. He's completely broke.

In retrospect, he can remember exactly how it happened. When Mrs. Jacobs had gotten sick and needed that medicine, he'd given Davey an even larger percentage and had forgotten to even the money back out when she recovered. Davey's shoe had worn through, and he'd insisted that he take a few extra coins so that he could afford a new pair. It was Sarah's birthday in a week, and he'd subtly increased their profit so that the boys could afford to get her something nice. And then Les had lost his hat in Brooklyn that day, and the poor kid had looked so devastated that he couldn't help but buy him a new one.

He has a few dollars saved up at the lodging house, the last of his funds for a train ticket to Santa Fe, but Elmer needs new shoes and Romeo's had that cough for a few days now. So rather than go back there and be tempted to spend the coins on something selfish and fleeting, like bread, he wanders the streets instead. He doesn't have a destination in mind, but when he finally looks up, he realizes he's unconsciously made his way to Davey's apartment building.

And Davey is waiting for him.

"I hoped you'd show up," he says, smiling a little.

Jack narrows his eyes and frowns. "Why'd you think I would?" He's not sure he likes being predictable.

Davey shakes his head, a small amount of sadness entering his expression. He holds up a handful of coins. "I counted these, and did the math — this is everything we made today. You didn't keep anything for yourself. I figured it was only a matter of time until you noticed."

"Yeah," Jack says after a long moment of silence. "I knew."

"You _know?_ You gave me all of the money on purpose?" When Jack nods sheepishly, Davey shakes his head. "That's not fair, Jack!"

"Yeah, well, life ain't fair," he counters. "An' it makes me feel a hell of a lot better about my part in it to know I did what I could to help you an' your family."

"But Jack–"

"I'm fine, Davey."

After a moment of heavy, calculating silence, Davey throws up his hands. "Fine," he says sharply. "If you say so. But we're not."

"What? Still? I mean, we can try to sell more papes, Davey, but–"

Davey rolls his eyes. "Would you shut up and listen for a second?" When Jack flushes and falls silent, he continues, "We're not fine because, with all the extra money we've had lying around, we're stuck with more food than we can eat. And you'd better get upstairs and help us get rid of it."

"Are you for real?"

"Completely."

Jack frowns for a minute, but his stomach is churning angrily now, and the idea is starting to grow on him a little. "It would be a shame to waste it," he says finally.

"Indeed," Davey agrees. "Plus, if it goes bad we'll get flies in the house. And we can't have that."

"You're a real pain, you know that, Davey?"

"Well, so are you. Now come on."

And though he huffs in annoyance as he follows him inside, he can't hold back a smile as his friend's family greets him as warmly as always.

* * *

 **Do you forgive me for my absence? Reviews are confidence boosters ...**

 **Much love,  
KnightNight**


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